One more Misfit
by zeTo Effect
Summary: These days everyone is their own form of misfit is this merry band of survivors. Except this one has a habit of sticking with the people shes told not to, no matter how many times she's warned. Dangerous or not, the broken attract the broken. DarylxOC
1. Chapter 1

_Heeey, I'm finally getting back into the writing groove after abandoning my old account. Not that it really mattered but, you know.._

_So I've been meaning to write up a Walking Dead fic since season one but waited to get a good feel for everyone's character first and I am_ so_glad I did. So here we go!_

* * *

><p>The truck was packed to the brim, the bed full of clothes, canned foods, dry foods, tents, blankets, guns, ammo, a crossbow- you name it I had it. In the seat beside me was a dented and bloodied Easton baseball bat beside a handgun with an extra clip and a half-stale bag of chips.<p>

It was the fucking _apocalypse_- One that no one would have imagined. And here I was in a stolen truck with looted goods and a bag of Barbeque chips.

A few weeks before life had been totally normal and then some sort of.. I don't even know if plague would be the appropriate term, threw the world into utter chaos.

Everyone always expected the whole 2012 kind of shit to be the apocalypse- Natural disaster or something. I don;t know, maybe a volcano erupting, an super earthquake or an ice age or famine.. But instead we were graced with this crazy sickness.

They said it was some sort of government-created viral weapon, they said it was a terrorist attack... Hell I'd even heard say it was the wrath of god. Whatever it was it took over the world and destroyed everything. It started with a bite or a decent sized scratch from an infected person, then you developed this insane fever before you apparently died.

Although _"died"_ might not be the appropriate term since within a couple hours you were back on your feet snapping your jaws at anything that moved or made sound.

The reporters had been calling them "Walkers" before the broadcasts cut off completely and the world was left in the dark. Before the power grids went down because no one was left to run anything.

Needless to say when the small town I lived in went ass backwards and people started eating each other I bailed. Looted a bunch of shit from WalMart, filled my gas tank and then some at an abandoned station and ran for my pathetic life.

Fuck, I didn't have half a _clue_ on how to survive in the woods.

I grew up in New york and this was the Georgian wilderness- I figured I was doomed.

The middle of summer in Georgia was hot as all hell, even when doing 60 down an empty highway. I didn't dare turn on the air conditioning- wasting gas wasn't even an option at this point. I only had one gas tank left and there were barely any cars on the highway so siphoning gas was out of the question.

It was a wonder all the stupid tricks I learned working in a garage helped me out here. I learned how to part most cars and siphon gas and hot-wire-

Now if only someone had taught me to survive the wilderness.

I'd taken to thinking of movies for help on the whole 'Surviving the Apocalypse' thing. Usually people rationed food and water and stayed in a well fortified shelter until the military swooped in to save their asses and fix everything.

But considering the fact that there were abandoned tanks in a couple cities I'd passed through I wasn't expecting a miracle at this point. So I started rationing my food- only ate once or twice a day only had two bottles of water a day. So far I was alright as far as what I had left. Maybe another month if I kept this pattern up; longer if I found another store to raid.

Flying past a lone, legless walker on the road I glanced in the rear view mirror and winced at the sight that met me. my strawberry blonde hair was a mess- greasy and unkempt and my blue eyes were hollowed out with big black bags from the countless nights I was too afraid to sleep. My clothes were getting awkwardly baggy from all the weight I'd lost since this had all started and I figured it a wonder the walkers didn't think I was one of them.

Taking a chance I got off the next exit following the signs to the clothing outlets that were apparently there. Hell, may as well try for some new clothes and maybe I'd get lucky and find something useful.

The parking lot was barren and the front windows were totally intact in the practically microscopic clothing store.

"Well of course, who raids a clothing store in the apocalypse..?" I mumbled to myself, grabbing my bat and shoving the handgun in the waistband of my shorts as a last resort.

The silence was ungodly unnerving as I paced to the tiny store as quietly as possible.

I smiled at the lack of space inside- the smaller the store the better. No place for anything... unexpected to hide. Taking a last glance around the lot to make sure nothing would creep up on me I pressed myself against the glass for a clearer look inside, ignoring the little sign flipped to say "CLOSED."

"Empty..."

Moving to the door I pushed it open and closed it silently behind me, praying to whatever god was left that I was alone.

Readying my bat I made a few noises, like I was calling to a kitten. A sort of kissing noise I guess. Just loud enough for anything inside to hear.

Waiting I only saw one thing move- a lone walker in the straight expanse of the store.

It wore a blue apron with the store's logo across the front and a name tag that read 'Sue.'

I chuckled, "Hey there, Suzy-Q. Wanna go shopping with me..?"

The thing limped toward me, it's hair in greasy waves, lower jaw exposed through the gaping hole in its rotted cheek as it made these inhuman, cringe-worthy groans. Once it was close enough I took one decent swing across its face, knocking the rotted thing's head back with a _'snap,'_ before it crumpled to the floor.

Taking another swing its skull caved and blood spattered across my tank top as it's guttural growling stopped returning the area to silence.

Making good with my time I snatched a cloth shopping-bag from the front counter before moving straight to the shoes to replace the worn out converse I wore.

By the time I was finished I'd managed to grab several new pairs of shorts a whole bag of shirts, a few pairs of jeans a jacket and hoodie before sneaking back through the deserted parking lot in a pair of nice new boots that would've normally cost me a pretty penny. Hefting the three bags of pilfered clothes under the cab on the truck bed I grinned relishing in the feeling of clean clothes. Well, that and the short "bath" in the ladies room sinks with some of those free samples they always have near the registers of name-brand shampoo.

Hopping into the driver's seat I gave a groan as a lone walker tumbled around the corner of a building. It spotted me in record time and started stumbling towards me as I started up the truck. I smirked, jamming the truck into gear and driving past it, opening the door at the last second to send the walking corpse back to the ground with a nasty _'Thud.'_

Knee-length biker shorts under a pair of dark wash jean shorts, a v-neck black shirt with a purple camisole under it and brand new boots made me feel like some kind of wanna-be-fashionista and mildly stupid for taking the time to lurk around in the makeup section for purely vain reasons.

"You're an idiot," I chucked to the empty road as the quiet afternoon rolled out along the empty highway before of me.

* * *

><p>The dawn brought a slightly cooler day that I was more than thankful for. The air was mild, maybe a mid 80s temperature and I made my way towards the outskirts of Atlanta.<p>

Supplies were running low and I'd passed through most of the smaller towns on my little road map only to find that they'd already been looted or that they were overrun with walkers.

Atlanta had been declared the local "safety" zone before the broadcasts stopped so, I hoped, the city might still be safe. Or at least be slightly less walker-friendly. But then again that's what I thought about a lot of towns with military blockades at the entrance only to find I was sorely mistaken.

I heaved a sigh and pushed my hopes away, preparing myself for the worst.

Cars littered the streets along with paper and trash and bodies.

No sound, not even the wind. I'd left the truck just inside the thick of the city, nestled into a small alley so it was a strait shot to where I was headed.

I stepped quickly within the shadow of a multi-story shopping complex, bat in hand, my gun in my waistband and a knife I'd stumbled across on the way in strapped to my thigh. I mean the thing was huge and looked like something Rambo would carry. I couldn't pass that up.

Meeting a fenced off alley I grimaced. Someone had been here before and been smart enough to protect the area. That mean I was treading on claimed territory...

Swallowing my fear I opened the fence just enough to slip through before latching it closed again. Only about a handful of walkers were roaming the area but I wasn't going to take chances. The alley was empty save for a service ladder leading to the roof of the building that, no doubt, led to an entrance.

Hooking my bat in my belt loop I climbed quickly panicking when a walker spotted me from the street and threw itself again the fence gate below me.

Reaching the top I stopped to breathe, unhooked the bat from my shorts and collapsed against the raised wall.

"This is fucking crazy. I'm an idiot- I should have just avoided the whole damn city."

Kicking the pavement, I cursed myself out. The noise of that one walker would draw more and more and escaping a whole horde was just not going to happen.

"Fuck me," I whined to the sky, the audible metallic clatter of walkers against the gate laughing at me from below.

* * *

><p><em>Alright! So there's chapter one. I'm going to get into exactly who this OC is in the next couple chapters so deal with the very vague sense of who she is that I gave here. I sear it's going to pick up but I'm kind of tired of the whole "Let's toss a new survivor into the camp and go from there lololololol." Oh and I don;t know about most WalMarts, but the one near me has a nice big glass case of standard handguns and rifles in the hunting section so...<em>

_Reviews and all that jazz, I'd love to get some feedback on this baby and see what you guys are liking and hating about it._

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

Wow. Uhm, holy crap you guys! Thanks so much for all of teh wonderful feedback on chapter one! I've never gotten such a big reaction from a story. Usually I'd get one ro two reviews and that was it but. Wow. Thanks u

Here's chapter two for you!

* * *

><p>Wasting as little time as possible I ran inside. The front entrance had been locked same with the emergency exit on the opposite side of the building so I assumed I was safe. Still, I hoisted my bat at the ready, just in case a walker or two were trapped inside.<p>

The soft tap of my new boots on the tiled floors echoed through the empty corridors-

Nothing. Not one walker on the whole floor.

I moved to the nearest rack of backpacks and grabbed two before heading straight for the camping supplies. Shoving a couple small propane tanks in the first backpack I grabbed up 2 small first-aid kits and an extra sleeping bag before grabbing one of the single-burner propane stoves. Surprisingly they'd become quite handy- the size of a book and they gave off hardly any light making cooking a lot less nerve-wracking compared to using an open fire.

Zipping the first bag closed I shouldered it and headed towards the stairwell, bat in hand.

Making quick work of the food section I made myself comfortable in the cafeteria, a few canned goods warming on the stove.

I relished in the safety I'd found, my backpacks off to the side with a blanket and pillow I found lying beside them. I had quickly decided to spend the night when I found all the entrances secure or void of anything that would attract walkers. I wasn't even close to being ready to face the hoard of walkers that would probably still be waiting for me at the end of the alley. No doubt the back entrance I'd found by the garage would still be unlocked on the inside and it would be a clear shot down the few blocks to my truck in the morning when they'd forgotten about me.

With a sigh I popped open a soda, cringing as it echoed off the walls.

"Here's to hoping," I mumbled, toasting the warm can of coke to the empty room.

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard footsteps the next morning.

Somewhere in the stairwell there was a clamor of feet tromping up the stairs at a slow pace.

_Walkers._

They had to be.

Jumping up from the corner I'd made myself comfortable in for the night I took up my bat, pressing myself to the wall as they came closer.

But upon hearing whispered voiced I froze.

Shaking my head in disbelief I readied the bat again and listened, suppressing a giddy grin when I picked up on a muffled conversation.

Deciding weather or not to call out, I weighed my options. I could get their attention and hope they didn't shoot me, steal what I'd gathered and left me as walker food... Or hightail it out of there like a smart little girl, avoiding the chance that they were a bunch of ravenous loonies.

Maybe they were nice... But I wasn't about to take that big of a chance. The last group of survivors I'd found were less than pleased at my invading their territory and threatened the removal of both a hand any my innocence.

Hefting the two bags onto my shoulders I waited until they were out of the stairs before slipping behind them, bat in hand. Taking the steps two at a time my entire body jumped when someone yelled there was something in the stairwell.

"_Fuck,_" I grimaced, racing down the corridors for the white door to the outside, cursing the fact that my gun was in the backpack. At least I could have looked slightly more intimidating if they caught me.

This was stupid, completely idiotic. I should have just played nice, made friends of the last human beings I might see.

"Too late now," I thought aloud, throwing myself through the white door and into the alley.

A walker waited at the end of the alley, immediately spotting me and shuffling towards it's next meal. I yelped when I noticed the one behind me and swung my bat wildly.

"Dammit, I'm not dying here!"

Dodging past the other one I ran from the alley, sprinting another block before stopping dead in the street.

I had to be hallucinating.

Like something out of a television show a cop rode down the street atop a strong-backed horse. Full suit- including the damn hat. The horse's hooves made a horrid clopping noise, echoing between the abandoned buildings, no doubt attracting every walker within two or three blocks.

He locked eyes with me for a second, a look of complete shock crossing is face before he called out to me.

"Hey- Hey wait!"

I bolted around the corner, narrowly avoiding a group of walkers headed in the sheriff's direction.

The asshole, he must have attracted _every walker in the city_!

My legs burned when I finally made it back to the truck, tossing the bags under the cab and knocking a head off of the walker trailing me.

"I'm not _dying_ here, motherfucker," I growled, swinging up into the truck and bashing another walker with the door.

I peeled out of the alley, running down the few walkers that followed me like bugs and headed in the opposite direction of sheriff-moron. I'm not risking my ass for someone dumb enough to ride a horse through a hoard of walkers.

You might get by doing that in a forest, but the city? Not a snowball's chance in hell.

Walkers followed the low rumble of my engine and I cringed when gunshots rang out. The poor damn horse, no doubt they were chowing down on it by now. Dodging the few abandoned cars left on the city streets I was practically vibrating with adrenaline. The walkers were running wild from all the noise, crawling out of the buildings faster than I could count.

Out of the city I drove like a mad woman- doubling back a few times to be sure I'd lost the walkers completely before heading out of the city towards the wooded hills. I stopped off on the side of a tree-lined back road, the are quiet and the summer air suffocating me.

Cutting the engine I just sat there for a minute, hands white-knuckled on the steering wheel. Fuck, I felt so guilty. I probably could have helped him- maybe saved his life. Or at least I could have tried.

Smacking the dash in frustration I got out of the truck and grabbed my bat.

"Dammit..."

Running my hands through my hair I leaned on the door. Guilty was not something I dealt with well. I was a coward, no denying that, and it was pathetic.

Dropping the tailgate I hoisted myself to sit in the bed and grabbed a bottle of water with a sigh.

"Figures, you finally get a decent night's sleep and now you get sleepless nights dreaming up different ways the walkers ate the damned sheriff."

Half expecting something to talk back to me I glowered at the thin line of trees on either side of the road.

Once I was out on the road it became pretty clear that secluded places, usually near relatively uninhabited patches of woods, were the best places to take a breather. The walkers wandered in hoards in cities but the woods only held a few stragglers or former survivors who'd been bitten by said lackeys.

It wasn't uncommon to drive by an abandoned tent set back in the woods a bit. At first I would stop to check them, see if anyone was really there, but tended to avoid them after a close call with a little girl. She couldn't have been more than ten or so, snapping her jaws at me when I got close enough.

Deciding to be productive I dug my gun from the bag I'd tossed it in last night and closed the tailgate. Checking the knife on my thigh I hefted my bat and headed into the woods with my "travel" pack; a backpack with a couple water bottles, granola bars and a roll of T.P., something I'd learned to stock up on early on.

I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just wandering the treeline a few yards in. If there were any walkers in the area I could either take them out or decide to run, and if I found anything I was close enough that carrying things to the truck wouldn't be too tiring. It was actually pretty fucking stupid to leave the truck at all when I thought about it, but sitting on my ass after leaving a man to die was eating away at my nerves...

The trees were quiet, the summer day lacking any real breeze, as I trekked on. There was literally nothing within the trees-

No abandoned farms or cabins. It was mildly disappointing but wandering too far off and finding myself a horde of those undead fuckers wasn't the best plan so I started to make my way back up the road.

Branches crunched here and there, jolting my nerves with every whisper in the leaves.

They sounded far off and I wrote the noise off and wandering animals. Shame I was a terrible hunter, or that I had no clue on how to prep an animal to eat. Right about now some squirrel meat sounded a million times better than canned foods.

Another branch snapped, this time much too close for comfort. I paused, scanning the area with wide eyes.

A deer passed between the trees beside me and my mouth practically watered. venison. My grandfather had been a decent hunter when we lived in NY and venison was always a popular pick for him along with wild turkey.

But how was I so blind to not see it approach?

I had to be more careful. Had it been a walker...

Shaking my head I smiled, leaning my hand on the tree as I leaned forward to brush my finger across it's back, immediately regretting it.

White hot pain seared through my hand out of nowhere, a green painted bolt pinning my flesh to the bark. The deer ran off in a flash and I immediately began to panic. Grasping at the end of the bolt I tried to pull as blood ran down my arm. It was fucking _stuck_.

"Fuck. _Fuck!_" I was desperately trying not to yell, and pulling at my hand was only making it worse.

Steps approached and I panicked more. I was going to die. Jesus Christ, what if they were crazy looters or... cannibals or something?

"Oh my god, I'm going to die," I whined, tearing up from either the pain or the fear as the steps got closer and closer.

An apocalypse where the dead rise to eat the living and I get to be eaten by _cannibals_. 

* * *

><p>Well that's all for this chapter. Don't worry, We're gonna get all introdiced to everyone in the next chapter and you'll finally get a decent idea of this OC besides the fact that she swears a lot.<p>

Review please~! The more you review the more I up date. Ideas and constructive criticism are more than welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

_Ahh.. Chapter three. So I realize this is really dragging right now, but I'm gonna pick it up in the next few chapters. baaaaah. Review please, loves 3_

* * *

><p>"The Hell..?"<p>

I whipped my head around, still pulling desperately at the arrow in my hand. A taller man, at least a good few inches taller than me stood a few yards off, crossbow in hand, looking confused as all bloody hell.

"Please," I practically gasped out, my hands now sticky with blood, "Don't eat me. I swear, I'd taste terrible. Go for the deer."

He looked at me like I was stark raving mad, "Ya on something funny there, short stuff?"

"...what?_ No_! No.. I just- You're not some crazy cannibal, right?"

My eyes were burning at this point, tearing up as I stopped struggling. Blinking them away he moved closer and I flinched back out of instinct.

"Hold still," He grumbled and moved to the arrow as I stepped to the side a bit giving him as much space as possible.

Grabbing it with a firm fist he looked to me with clear blue eyes.

"Ready?"

"Wait, you're gonna just _yank_ it out?"

Well as if that wasn't the most retarded thing to say. What else would he do? Lop off my hand?

"Tha' fuck else you want me t' do?"

Fuck I was pissing him off. His brow creased slightly as he stared at my hand again before giving me another glance.

With another round of white-hot pain the bolt was out of my hand and the tree and the blood flowed free.

"Lose tha' shirt," He demanded, hooking the bolt into place on his crossbow.

"W-What?"

"Ya wanna bleed more or what?" He cocked the string back, setting the bow to fire before placing it against the tree.

Sniffling pathetically I removed my backpack then my flannel leaving me in only my layered tank tops before handing it to him. He grabbed my hand before wrapping the ruined article of clothing around it. I grimaced even more when my eyes caught the squirrels strung over his shoulder, bloodied and limp.

"Hold that tight, keep pressure on it.."

He glanced down at my bag, "Ya got anything in that?"

"N-no.. But I've got some stuff in my truck.. A few yards that way," I nodded my head in the direction of the road and he nodded.

He grabbed my bag, abandoned bat and his crossbow and followed me towards the road. Breaking out of the trees we both paced quickly to the waiting vehicle, glancing around the area for any stray walkers.

Popping the tailgate with my good hand I dug into one of the newest supply bags from Atlanta and picked out one of the first aid kits.

He gave me a stiff nod and motioned me to sit on the tailgate when he saw the small white box and I complied silently. He placed the cocked crossbow beside me along with my dented and bloodied bat before popping the box open and getting started on mending my hand.

He was silent as he worked with my wound, his calloused hands barely grazing my own. Like he didn't want to actually touch me. Under all the sweat and dirt he was probably very good looking in that rugged scruffy kind of way. I fought a cracking smile at the thought, pulling my hand back in shock as he poured alcohol over my hand.

"Fuck, that burns!" I groaned and he just gave me a look that screamed_ 'no shit.'_

His eyes were an amazing blue now that I saw him in clear light and I couldn't help but stare. He shook his head after a second before cleaning the blood from my hand and wrapping it correctly.

"So... you shoot every girl you come across or am I getting special treatment?" I joked, looking to the afternoon sky for a second.

He snorted a short laugh and I smiled.

"Don't usually find girls wanderin' 'round pettin' deer," He glanced up at me with a grin so slight you'd miss it if you didn't look.

"Well most guys wouldn't drop hunting a buck that big to fix a hole in someone's hand. Forgive me for questioning your methods."

He paused and looked to the woods for a second before returning to the gauze, "Track it down again later. Keep myself busy," He gave a slight shrug and I nodded, trying not to stare too much.

He seemed like just a normal guy in all of this. Anyone else I'd met was pushed to the breaking point. They were usually violent and cruel but him... He was so quiet I was actually surprised. Somehow when I'd heard the classic hic-town accent I expected an angry redneck to come barrel-assing through the woods raising all kinds of hell...

"..You got a name?"

I nodded, "Vivianne. What about you?"

"Daryl."

Her certainly wasn't a man of words, that much was obvious. Though I had to say he was certainly.. strange. I mean, most people would have flipped shit for me having fucked their shot up then called me an idiot, yanked the bolt out, and left me to bleed. But he was... different. I caught myself looking him over more carefully, noting the adorable Monroe mole he had and the dust of small freckles across his shoulders, frowning at the scars along his well-tanned skin. It was obvious he'd been through a lot and I couldn't help but wonder how many of those were there before this all started.

My attention snapped back to reality when he stepped back and nodded. My hand was bound in gauze, the slightest tinge of red in the center on both sides.

"All set. Don't forget to change the bandages," He nodded to my hand before quickly eying me over.

He was just gonna leave..?

"Want- Uhm... Want to stick around for lunch, I guess?"

"I just shot you. And yer offerin' me lunch?"

I laughed at the expression on his face before moving back into the bed of the truck.

"Least I could do. We're in the middle of the apocalypse and you stop long enough to bind my hand up."

He shook his head with a small grin before hopping onto the tailgate. "Yer a weird one."

"So I've been told."

A lunch of canned peaches and instant ramen(courtesy of my single burner stove) was more than welcome as we sat in mutual silence. He was awkwardly comfortable to be around and I didn't feel constantly pressured to have a conversation going. He never glanced at me for more than a few seconds, even when we were talking. He'd always glance around, studying the woods or the sky, but always listened.

Although he seemed fine so long as I kept a physical distance. At one point I nudged him after a snide remark and I couldn't help but notice the way he flinched from the physical contact.

"So, you out here by yourself?" He asked as we finished lunch, the sounds of cicada's echoing in the Georgian summer.

I dropped my chin into my good hand, elbow resting on my knee. "Yeah... I was in a group for a little while when this all started but things went bad. Went on a supply run a few cities over and got hoarded. Anyone that didn't get dragged off wound up bit..."

He nodded in understanding and glance into the truck bed at the supplies I had. I followed his gaze and shrugged, "Went supply hunting most of the time. The small towns around here had some decent stuff left. Although WalMart was crazy helpful."

He eyed the crossbow and guns tucked closest to the back, "Know how to use any of 'em?"

I straight out laughed at this and he quirked an eyebrow at me.

"God, hardly. The guns, yeah. But a crossbow? No. I was only taught how to use a classic bow, not this fancy stuff."

I'd taken up an archery course back when I was in high school out of boredom, though I'd wanted to take fencing but the class cost way more than I could afford. They taught us how to use a classic bow and arrow, not the weighted hunters bows or crossbows. Those were reserved for the advanced course that I was never able to afford.

New York hadn't exactly prepared me for this whole apocalypse thing but I'd like to think my common sense was helping me out more than most. I was able to keep my cool around walkers for the most part. The only time I found myself panicking was when I'd had to take down people I actually... knew.

Then again, it was probably like that for everyone.

"What about you, you all alone in the woods..?"

"Nah, got a group of locals hanging near an old quarry up the way. Bunch o' idiots."

I snickered a bit, cradling my hand in my lap. "Not too bright on the whole_ 'survive the walkers'_ thing yet?"

I nodded deftly when he snorted out another laugh, staring up to the sky. "There was this uhm... Crazy guy when I was leaving Atlanta," He glanced over to me then followed my eyes to the sky. "Came into the city on a horse, all decked out like some kinda fancy sheriff. Walkers were on him faster than anything I've ever seen. Crazy bastard..."

It was silent for a few minutes, the only sounds coming from a few stray birds and the cicadas. "Probably could have saved him..." I mumbled with a sigh.

"Prob'ly not."

I stared at Daryl with raised brows and he keep his eyes on the sky. "Walkers swarm noise. No way ya coulda' helped him," He met my eyes with another stiff nod and I cracked another small smile.

"Thanks..."

He slid down from the tailgate and picked up his crossbow, checking the string and counting the bolts.

"you leaving..?"

Again he simply nodded and I gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for binding my hand. And not trying to eat me."

He shook his head with a small smile, hefting his crossbow onto his shoulder. Meeting my eyes once more, he squinted in the afternoon sun, shoulders squared and stiff. His blue eyes blazed in the light and I smiled wider as he turned and stalked off down the road, eventually breaking into the treeline. Somehow, without him needing to speak at all, I fully understood what he had meant.

In his own silent way, he was apologizing. And I couldn't help but be grateful for finding one person left in the world that kind, even if it was hidden under a scruffy, southern man with a string of squirrels over his shoulder.

The afternoon quickly turned to night and I decided to spend the night on the road. For awhile I contemplated looking for the camp Daryl had mentioned but couldn't bring myself to just wander onto their land so I moved the truck to the side of the road. I made myself comfortable in the bed of my truck, the small port window int he back open into the tightly locked up cab. I'd layered three sleeping bags on top of one of those... camping sleep mats; a thin little piece of styrofoam that made the ridges in the bed hurt a little less. I'd shoved all of my bags to the sides leaving the center open enough to move, propped up a little solar lantern and settled in for the night.

Although I quickly regretted it because the forest was filled with nothing but noise and, for me, noise meant paranoia. I spent most of the night tossing and turning, my hand aching and the snapping twigs and rustling bushes outside waking me more times than I cared to count. Eventually, once the air had cooled to a decent 60, I dozed off, watching the stars vanish into the twilight.

I was jolted awake to a muggy morning and the wailing of a siren.

No...

A _car alarm_?

I threw my sleeping bags off and scrambled into a sitting position as a little red sports car came into view.

"What the_ hell_ is that..?"

The driver had to be doing atleast 70, flying down the road with the car alarm blaring. He flew past me and just kept going as the sound died into the distance.

Crawling into the cab I started the truck and jammed it into gear, cranking down the windows and following the stupid little dinner bell as far away from Atlanta as humanly possible.


End file.
